tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498Thu, 26 Feb 2015 22:12:48 +0000cancerbreast canceradoptionlupronthyroid cancersurvivorCancer remissionfoster carefatiguefoster to adoptremissiontamoxifenBreast cancer awarenessliferecurrencesurvivor guiltthyroidChristmasLIDNazarenePET scanchemohopeparentingprayersurgeryDeath lossDisney Wild Animal KingdomDisney WorldHalloweenIronMHKMUGAMardi GrasMyra KraftNYI conventionNew OrleansPatriotsPlumbReggie WayneSea World OrlandoTPRWinterjamadvent conspiracyaerieaeriesupportsallergiesarthritisbethany christian servicesbirth fatherbirth parentsbrainbrasbrokennesscancer suckscarolschuck paganochurchcoldcoltscreationdietdiffuse sclerosingdolphinsdomestic violencedownton abbeyeverydayfeargeneral assemblygift givinggiftsgimmickhealth insurancehouse of bluesimage of Godiodineleukemialovelove languageslow iodine dietluke sheetslymph node dissectionmammogramsmenopauseminimalistmiracleoncologistoperationpartypediatric cancerpinkpink ribbonpinkwashingpittsburgpolar vortexpotty trainingprosthesisradiationrecoveryreligionremindersabbathsuperbowlsupport groupthyroidectomyThe AftermathThe ups and downs of a cancer survivor, and a journey of foster care to adoption.http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/noreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)Blogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-2897146649415033568Thu, 26 Feb 2015 22:12:00 +00002015-02-26T17:12:48.764-05:00breast cancercancercancer sucksrecurrencethyroid cancerI think I have cancer...<p dir="ltr">I think I have cancer, pretty much every day.</p><p dir="ltr">It's normal for survivors to fear recurrence. And in my case, after being told, "it's probably nothing" from medical professionals for weeks before my breast cancer diagnosis, and then being diagnosed with a SECOND cancer, it's easy to think the worst. I do my best to put it out of my mind, but the last three months that has been a bit harder.</p><p dir="ltr">It started in November with some neck pain and feeling tired. Chris and I started looking at each other with eyes that ask, "is it back?" but without daring to speak the idea. My normal thyroid check-up revealed a "slightly elevated" thyroglobulin level, and that sealed it in my mind. The thyroid cancer was back. I was going to have to be treated for a third time. After the holidays, I started preparing for a full body scan that would show the doctor's exactly where the cancer was and just how bad. I went 4 weeks having little to no iodine (I've blogged about that joyous experience before,) had an ultrasound on my neck, had my scan, ate large amounts of cheese, (a forbidden food on the diet,) and awaited the results.</p><p dir="ltr">About mid-January I also had an MRI on my right breast (the only breast remaining) as part of normal follow up from breast cancer.</p><p dir="ltr">Now, those of you who have known me a long time and know my blogging history will have to forgive my silence during this time. It was all I could do to keep it together emotionally, and for some reason, wanted privacy. Back to my story...</p><p dir="ltr">The neck ultrasound was clear. I was surprised, but glad. For the first time in months, I allowed myself to believe that maybe it was NOT cancer causing the fatigue and neck pain.</p><p dir="ltr">The full body scan was clear. I was shocked. I cried of happiness. It was hard to believe.</p><p dir="ltr">We celebrated! Good news! We got good news!</p><p dir="ltr">My thyroglobulin levels were high, higher than before. Did I screw something up? Did I have too much iodine? </p><p dir="ltr">I'm not sure, but for now I'm trusting the scan results. My medical team is keeping an eye on things and if we need to do more testing, we will.</p><p dir="ltr">But what about that MRI? I had forgotten completely about it, to be honest. Until I got a call from my oncologist's office, that is. They couldn't get a clear picture in a couple of places, so they wanted to do a mammogram. That led to an ultrasound. The ultrasound led to 2 biopsies. And here I am today, blogging from bed, icing, resting, and waiting for the word "benign." </p><p dir="ltr">I have a good life. I have an amazing family, an exciting church, a job that allows me to be creative, and so much more. Cancer sucks. I try not to let it define me. Don't let the bad stuff define you either.</p>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2015/02/i-think-i-have-cancer.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-8796669171324532764Wed, 06 Aug 2014 02:50:00 +00002014-08-06T20:34:14.187-04:00cancerDreamingSometimes it hurts too much to remember.&nbsp;<div><br></div><div>The last month I have lived in a dream world, a land free of doctor visits, free from blood draws, free from testing and caution because of my "history."</div><div><br></div><div>I've been free.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>But now I start to waken and reality hits. Symptoms that most would readily ignore are beeping at me like an old alarm clock telling me to get up- to find a doctor, no, a whole team of specialists to analyze and speculate and find out what if anything is wrong.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>But I like my dream world. I hit the snooze button. Just ten more minutes, please, just ten more minutes of bliss where I can forget my history, where I can enjoy life free of scars both physical and emotional. Free.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>But how long will that freedom last? How long until the alarm ascends to a screeching, piercing, ringing that can not and will not be ignored?&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>Sometimes it hurts too much to remember.&nbsp;</div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2014/08/dreaming.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-8364883121006109022Sat, 22 Mar 2014 00:10:00 +00002014-03-21T20:10:12.639-04:00luke sheetsPlumbremissionsurvivorthyroid cancerWinterjamNeed You Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D64yjUCiIkM/UyzU4rPAl6I/AAAAAAAAAL0/ok4IVHBL56o/s640/blogger-image-1998240744.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D64yjUCiIkM/UyzU4rPAl6I/AAAAAAAAAL0/ok4IVHBL56o/s640/blogger-image-1998240744.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NSzevO--m30/UyzU1kqg8CI/AAAAAAAAALk/e7kDDtmYyHE/s640/blogger-image--2135009512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NSzevO--m30/UyzU1kqg8CI/AAAAAAAAALk/e7kDDtmYyHE/s640/blogger-image--2135009512.jpg"></a></div><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D64yjUCiIkM/UyzU4rPAl6I/AAAAAAAAAL0/ok4IVHBL56o/s640/blogger-image-1998240744.jpg"></div>I'm sitting here at WinterJam in Pittsburgh. Plumb just sang. One of my favorite songs of hers is "How Many Times" (Need You Now) co-written by friend Luke Sheets. (Ok, so he's not really my FRIEND, more like my teenage friend's husband. Whatever! We are friends on Facebook so it counts, right?)<div><br></div><div>Anyway, I first heard this song when I was diagnosed with Thyroid cancer. It helped me process the emotional pain of a second cancer diagnosis, especially in the midst of a potential adoption. So tonight, when I heard Tiffany sing, I sang too. I sang it loudly.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>And then, I couldn't sing anymore...</div><div><br></div><div>I had fogotten that thyroid cancer messed with my vocal cords a bit, and I can't belt it out like I used to. My throat tightened. It hurt. It still does.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>A tear fell down my left cheek.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>My voice can't sing it anymore, but my heart can. "How many times have you heard me cry out, 'God, please take this.' How many times have you given me strength to just keep breathing? Oh, I need you. God, I need you now."</div><div><br></div><div>I need you now.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Uq6bbs_vJ4U/UyzU3JJcoHI/AAAAAAAAALs/CtB20byOZgs/s640/blogger-image-1383045946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Uq6bbs_vJ4U/UyzU3JJcoHI/AAAAAAAAALs/CtB20byOZgs/s640/blogger-image-1383045946.jpg"></a></div><br></div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2014/03/need-you-now.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-3284618614622286460Thu, 20 Mar 2014 01:19:00 +00002014-03-19T21:19:57.199-04:00adoptionbirth parentsThe day afterYesterday the kids and I had a visit with their birthmother and maternal grandma. It was their mom's 30th birthday. They hadn't seen her in about four months.&nbsp;<div><br></div><div>Several people commented on how hard this must be. It is. But, what's even harder is the day after.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>A seven year old simply doesn't know how to process it all. Where has my mom been? Why do I hardly ever see her? Why doesn't my dad come to my visits? Why can't they take care of me? Why was I adopted? What am I supposed to call my birth mom? What am I supposed to call Kelly and Chris? And on and on they go...</div><div><br></div><div>The day of the visit, emotions are usually subdued. My boy is excited, but doesn't want to show it- probably in fear of my reaction. After a visit, he gets contrary, gets an attitude, doesn't want to be told what to do, thinks of us as not his "real" parents.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>The day(s) after a visit, emotions are off the charts. It took us three hours to do homework tonight, minus about half an hour for dinner. He was off the wall goofy, then so easily frustrated that he couldn't sound out a simple word or even count properly.&nbsp;</div><div>After homework he was argumentative and/or shutting down. It got to the point where both Chris and I raised our voices at him. His reaction? He was scared- so scared that he didn't want to be within reach of either of us. We reassured him that he was safe, that we weren't going to hurt him, but it didn't matter.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>With time, talking, and patience, the night ended ok. But one thing was incredibly clear: our boy is broken, hurting, and afraid. He is scared that we will hurt him, that we will abandon him. All I can say is this:</div><div><br></div><div>We will never purposely hurt you, buddy. And we will never willingly abandon you. We will love you forever and always.&nbsp;</div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2014/03/the-day-after.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-8996082731418831151Sat, 15 Mar 2014 01:07:00 +00002014-03-14T21:07:56.064-04:00breast cancercancerCancer remissionchemolifeprayerremindersurvivorsurvivor guiltthyroid cancerSometimes I need to be reminded.Sometimes I need to be reminded. I need to be reminded that just being here is a gift. I need to remember that my breast cancer was aggressive- stage 3- and could have easily killed me. I need to remember that even though my thyroid cancer was a strain resistant to treatment, that everything points to that treatment having worked. I need to know that surgery, chemo therapy, radiation, and prayer cured me. I need to remember that whatever side effects linger, whatever my limitations may be, I am still alive.<br /><br />Making the most of every moment isn't easy. Daily pain, knowing when to push and when to rest, juggling doctors, follow-ups, and treatments, knowing what to share and what to keep quiet about, and trying to believe that my body is not the enemy, are all things I still struggle with. But, it's life, and it's something I should enjoy. I shouldn't feel sorry for myself. I'm here, and that's enough.<br /><br />Sometimes I just need to be reminded.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CMiOWfuDrbM/UyOngkP_L-I/AAAAAAAAALU/xXx81OMVipA/s1600/IMG_6508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CMiOWfuDrbM/UyOngkP_L-I/AAAAAAAAALU/xXx81OMVipA/s1600/IMG_6508.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></div><br /><br /><br />http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2014/03/sometimes-i-need-to-be-reminded.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-2961076406103006130Tue, 04 Mar 2014 16:56:00 +00002014-03-14T21:08:52.282-04:00canceroncologistOncologistsI'm so upset right now that i don't even know where to begin. I just called my oncology office to move up an appointment with my doctor only to betold &nbsp;that he isn't seeing patients anymore.<br /><div><br /></div><div>This man knows me, my medical history, my life. He chose to keep me as a patient even though I've reached my five year mark for breast cancer. (He would be within his rights to hand me over to my endocrinologist and say, "you're cured. See ya! He'll take care of the thyroid stuff.")</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't even know what to do.<br /><br />---<br /><br />Yeah, sorry about that little rant. I can think clearly again. :)</div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2014/03/oncologists.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-8498384317508739619Thu, 30 Jan 2014 20:41:00 +00002014-01-30T15:41:42.479-05:00adoptioncoldeverydayfoster to adoptlifeparentingpolar vortexpotty trainingA day in the life<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--YkUB6hzlp0/UuqvF7k5uyI/AAAAAAAAAJg/2hqmcueaPgs/s1600/DSC_5529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--YkUB6hzlp0/UuqvF7k5uyI/AAAAAAAAAJg/2hqmcueaPgs/s1600/DSC_5529.JPG" height="133" width="200" /></a><br /><br />This morning I sent my boy out the door for a full day of school. I wish I had counted how many "full" days of school he's had this month. There have been several cancellations due to cold: two this week alone, and countless delays. We've made the best of it, spending time at the YMCA and watching a whole lot of Muppets and Veggie Tales.<br /><br /><br /><br />Yesterday I got creative with breakfast. We had some blackberries that needed to be eaten and I was in the mood for pancakes. I mixed the batter with the berries and voila, purple pancakes!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2faxP9WhKvg/UuqxhU3pmSI/AAAAAAAAAJo/aLfGLZjj1L0/s1600/DSC_5510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2faxP9WhKvg/UuqxhU3pmSI/AAAAAAAAAJo/aLfGLZjj1L0/s1600/DSC_5510.JPG" height="133" width="200" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e4sXXIYlaHY/UuqxnF_7egI/AAAAAAAAAJw/66_WhxIn-d4/s1600/DSC_5488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e4sXXIYlaHY/UuqxnF_7egI/AAAAAAAAAJw/66_WhxIn-d4/s1600/DSC_5488.JPG" height="133" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was rather proud of my creation and grabbed my phone to take a snapshot (because who WOULDN'T want to see my breakfast?) I then remembered my DSLR (digital Nikon camera) was sitting right next to me and decided that I wasn't going to just take a snapshot, I was going to photograph. And, not just the pancakes, but the entire day. After all, we weren't going anywhere. Why not? It would be fun!</div><br />Yesterday was also the day I started potty training my toddler. The two tidbits I had read about "how to" potty train was 1: to take the child to the potty every 15 minutes until she gets the hang of it, or 2: have naked time. Neither really appealed to me, but watching the clock all day seemed far too cumbersome, so naked time it was.<br /><br />The first time? Well, she missed.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YglwRUZY1i8/UuqyYzoNl7I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/DcDIFDUZhfc/s1600/DSC_5500_edited-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YglwRUZY1i8/UuqyYzoNl7I/AAAAAAAAAJ4/DcDIFDUZhfc/s1600/DSC_5500_edited-2.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qkX10lzNYtg/UuqyZ0QSiPI/AAAAAAAAAKA/BpwM-VWvMsY/s1600/DSC_5502_edited-1.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">But, it WAS just the first time, after all!&nbsp;</span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">The rest of the day was filled with forts, practicing reading with my boy, jumping, dress up, IPad games with Daddy, and so much more. I hope you enjoy looking at the photographs as much as I enjoyed taking them. This is life, my life. And though it has its struggles, the good times and peace I have in God make it a great one.</span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cwqJH96ieYQ/Uuq1DBQ7SCI/AAAAAAAAAKc/u0hLmEw94j4/s1600/DSC_5464_edited-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cwqJH96ieYQ/Uuq1DBQ7SCI/AAAAAAAAAKc/u0hLmEw94j4/s1600/DSC_5464_edited-2.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of several forts my boy built. No little sisters allowed!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CkzyYwLrBr4/Uuq1AXfdJZI/AAAAAAAAAKM/4PsyABIvVHo/s1600/DSC_5526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CkzyYwLrBr4/Uuq1AXfdJZI/AAAAAAAAAKM/4PsyABIvVHo/s1600/DSC_5526.JPG" height="320" width="214" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the potty again. She WAS successful &nbsp;in her later attempts, and loves naked time!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_LygMUaeMEg/Uuq1AX161kI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/2klGFcGFmr8/s1600/DSC_5551_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_LygMUaeMEg/Uuq1AX161kI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/2klGFcGFmr8/s1600/DSC_5551_edited-1.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Up the stairs for nap time, little puppy.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PlYx3LDXprg/Uuq1HoU30WI/AAAAAAAAAKs/_y0tsozrjlw/s1600/DSC_5557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PlYx3LDXprg/Uuq1HoU30WI/AAAAAAAAAKs/_y0tsozrjlw/s1600/DSC_5557.JPG" height="214" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Practicing "hard to read" words and having a rare soda/pop.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UtMtj64Yos8/Uuq1EPbtK8I/AAAAAAAAAKg/P7gvLf382d8/s1600/DSC_5565_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UtMtj64Yos8/Uuq1EPbtK8I/AAAAAAAAAKg/P7gvLf382d8/s1600/DSC_5565_edited-1.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jump!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aHU8YicxWH0/Uuq1I65T5VI/AAAAAAAAAK0/UcQto7QX-Bk/s1600/DSC_5600_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aHU8YicxWH0/Uuq1I65T5VI/AAAAAAAAAK0/UcQto7QX-Bk/s1600/DSC_5600_edited-1.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Muppets game with Daddy, a nightly ritual.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table><br />A huge shout out to Melanie Haney for helping inspire me to photograph every day life. Check out her blog here:&nbsp;<a href="http://www.justamomentmom.com/#!blog/c1wid">http://www.justamomentmom.com/#!blog/c1wid</a>&nbsp;. You can also find her project on Facebook:&nbsp;<a href="https://www.facebook.com/justaminutemom">https://www.facebook.com/justaminutemom</a><br /><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"></div></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2014/01/a-day-in-life.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-3841455403460804355Thu, 02 Jan 2014 22:06:00 +00002014-01-02T17:06:16.728-05:00adoptionfoster to adoptAdoption DayToday, the judge made official what we have already known: we are family!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G2k3fJgVhqU/UsXiVxD6TtI/AAAAAAAAAI0/aWKCxzGhYXg/s1600/IMG_6119%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G2k3fJgVhqU/UsXiVxD6TtI/AAAAAAAAAI0/aWKCxzGhYXg/s320/IMG_6119%5B1%5D.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>The morning started with a small, but easily fixed problem. The kids were given gifts from their case worker. We answered all the questions and said we had none. The judge asked my boy if he had anything to say and he said, "I like to destroy things." It was too funny! (I was asked earlier to tell them about the kids. I'm guessing my boy thought that trait was important for the judge to know!) We received official papers with their new names, and that was that.<br /><br />We are very happy, as is our extended family. My boy is conflicted, but that is to be expected. He will soon see that nothing really changes as far as day to day life goes. I think that will make him feel better.<br /><br />Thanks to everyone for all of your encouragement. We were the first adoption of 2014. What a way to begin the year. And, it truly is, just the beginning!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JvkS9xhb0IU/UsXiSRqGQXI/AAAAAAAAAIs/dCrt6gfCCaU/s1600/IMG_6118%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JvkS9xhb0IU/UsXiSRqGQXI/AAAAAAAAAIs/dCrt6gfCCaU/s320/IMG_6118%5B1%5D.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2014/01/adoption-day.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-6727834816887713618Wed, 25 Dec 2013 23:40:00 +00002013-12-25T18:40:10.360-05:00The New NormalThis time last year was very different. I was recovering from a thyroidectomy and extensive lymph node removal. My sister wrapped many of the Christmas presents. My mother in law was here helping with the kids.<br /><br />My boy was wondering if Santa knew where he lived. It wasn't my girl's first Christmas, but it <b>was </b>mine. I was living the dream of having kids at Christmas. A month earlier we didn't even know if they would be with us, but they were, and it was so totally cool.<br /><br />This year was different. My most recent cancer scare is almost forgotten. Not only are the kids with us, but we knew they would be... we know they will be for a very long time. The massive amount of toys in my living room is just a picture of things to come. It will happen again-year after year.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-65r2tNbLwH4/UrtselP0G1I/AAAAAAAAAIc/2_hQm82Tr8M/s1600/IMG_5993%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-65r2tNbLwH4/UrtselP0G1I/AAAAAAAAAIc/2_hQm82Tr8M/s320/IMG_5993%5B1%5D.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>My girl is beginning to understand what it means to see something wrapped in colorful paper. My husband and I are trying to balance the Christian and the secular celebrations. My boy is taking full advantage of "eat whatever you want day."<br /><br />It's fun. I am blessed beyond measure.<br /><br />May God bless you richly as well.<br /><br />P.S. There was a mix of disgust and delight at our gourmet Christmas dinner. On the menu: ham with a mustard glaze, egg noodles, rolls, chipotle mashed sweet potatoes, and brussel sprouts with bacon and blue cheese. My boy ate ham and rolls. My girl ate noodles. I tried it all, but hated the brussel sprouts. My husband loved it all! (There are lots of leftovers. Come visit!)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-new-normal.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-358960409957104169Fri, 13 Dec 2013 20:53:00 +00002013-12-13T15:53:52.584-05:00cancerPET scanremissionResults r in!Blink blink... That tree is lame!&nbsp;<div><br></div><div>Results are in and there were only 2 spots that lit up on my PET scan- both of which have very normal, logical explanations: a cold and... Well let's just say I'm not pregnant.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>They are doing an ultrasound just in case, but all in all, things look good! Woo hoo! Yay God! Yay me!</div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/12/results-r-in.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-8418185687956006226Thu, 12 Dec 2013 21:11:00 +00002013-12-12T16:11:45.673-05:00breast cancercancerCancer remissionPET scanrecurrencePlease don't let me be a Christmas TreeHere we go again. After 6 1/2 years of dealing with cancer, tests for recurrence are more annoying than anything.<br /><br />Most of you know, since you follow my facebook posts, that I'm having another cancer scare. I had blood work done at a routine appointment with my oncologist that showed an elevated tumor marker. (C125 for those who like to research.) I was REALLY nervous until he told me that the C125 marker is a general marker and not a breast cancer marker. That meant that if I did have cancer, it wasn't the return of my breast cancer, and that was a good thing.<br /><br />Today I had a PET scan. I fasted (no food or drink) for 6+ hours so they could inject me with radioactive glucose which would then make its way to my hungry, dehydrated cells. I takes about 45 minutes to make it through the bloodstream. I reclined on a nice heated chair and colored while I waited.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9kr9XuUTplA/UqojlG_gAPI/AAAAAAAAAGs/LJ-ZY94_NLE/s1600/IMG_5852%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9kr9XuUTplA/UqojlG_gAPI/AAAAAAAAAGs/LJ-ZY94_NLE/s320/IMG_5852%5B1%5D.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />Cancer cells grow quickly, thus they feast on sugar. Once the glowing glucose was in, they put me on a scanner (much like a CT scan) and I had to lay still for about 25 minutes while they scanned me.<br /><br />I'll get the results in about a week, but even then, nothing is certain. A PET scan is really a test to show where they need to run more tests. If the second round of tests shows areas of concern, then they biopsy.<br /><br />Unless, of course, my scan lights up like a Christmas tree. Then I'll move to whatever cool experimental research facility that my sister can dig up and color angels till I'm singing with them.<br /><br />All in all, I feel fine. I'm not stressed. I'm just enjoying life. My daughter is getting spoiled. My son is oblivious. My family is supportive. My God is good.http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/12/please-dont-let-me-be-christmas-tree.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-374294125910673716Fri, 06 Dec 2013 15:13:00 +00002013-12-06T10:13:10.463-05:00cancerIronsurvivorI am iron (wo)man<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">You know you are a cancer survivor when...</span></div><div><br></div><div>You lose 4lbs. and your first thought is that something is wrong. (Despite the fact that you've been exercising and cutting calories.)</div><div><br></div><div>You have 3 doctor appointments in one week and think, "this is familiar."</div><div><br></div><div>This is my life! But anyway, today I am having my 2nd of &nbsp;5 iron infusions. It seems I'm quite deficient! I await it festively, and remembering that there are so many others who have it much worse.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Aq1DLYLEoSo/UqHphL7Ae2I/AAAAAAAAAGY/2g8NwIS_vmk/s640/blogger-image-1669144947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Aq1DLYLEoSo/UqHphL7Ae2I/AAAAAAAAAGY/2g8NwIS_vmk/s640/blogger-image-1669144947.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Merry Christmas everybody!</div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/12/i-am-iron-woman.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-3217559751840080356Thu, 21 Nov 2013 18:33:00 +00002013-11-21T21:14:01.985-05:00adoptionDisney Worldfoster to adoptTPRDisney WorldLast week a judge terminated the parental rights of my boy's birth parents. (They had already relinquished them for my girl.) They are no longer allowed to raise him. They can't fight for visitation. They are only allowed into his life as far as Chris and I let them. They have run out of second, third, and who knows how many more chances when it comes to raising their kids. My heart broke for their loss; while at the same time, rejoiced for my gain.<br /><br />Yesterday my boy was crying over some broken promise that his mother had made. She said that they would go to Disney World, and he thought that would never happen. I hadn't talked to him about the hearing yet, (as I was gone immediately after the hearing for 4 days to attend my grandmother's funeral,) so I took the opportunity to talk to him about his parents.<br /><br />I told him that I was sorry that he didn't go to Disney with his birth mom, that he still had lots of life left to live, and that Chris and I would LOVE to take him and his sister some day. (He suggested his next birthday would be good.)<br /><br />I told him that his mom and dad were all out of chances, that they weren't allowed to raise him, that he wouldn't be going back to Mee-Maw's farm. The agony on his face as tears streamed down, is indescribable.<br /><br />I told him that the judge said that we were allowed to adopt him now. He said, "Yay! More time with Cody!" Cody is one of his favorite teenage friends. My boy LOVES hanging out with the teens I work with. At least he was excited, right?<br /><br />I told him that he needs to think about what his new name is going to be. Yesterday he wanted to be Adam. (That's his middle name.) A month ago he wanted to be Crystal Spider-man. (In other words, his two favorite toys at the time.) Other days he has kept his first name and wanted his middle name to be Samuel, after his birth dad.<br /><br />I don't know what his name will be (although I guarantee it won't be Crystal Spider-man,) and as much as I want to, I can't PROMISE Disney World. But I sure am going to try. I'm going to do my utmost to keep my word and apologize when I don't. So look out Disney, a NEW family is coming to visit. Broken promises be gone!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MhPQuS8P4ec/Uo5R-jpsyWI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rLQUPCl60Yg/s1600/florida+highschool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MhPQuS8P4ec/Uo5R-jpsyWI/AAAAAAAAAGE/rLQUPCl60Yg/s320/florida+highschool.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Addendum:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A couple of concerns/questions were posed (very nicely) after a few of you read this post. Here are the answers to those questions:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1.) Yes, my boy does WANT to change his name. He does not like his first name. He has said that consistently for quite some time. Before we ever talked about adoption and the possibility of changing it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2.) He has the option to keep his name exactly as it is. We will be sure to communicate that he doesn't HAVE to change his name to be adopted.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Addendum 2:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We now have a Disney fund. You guys are crazy! I mean that in the best way possible!!</div><br />http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/11/disney-world.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-3812647082686490132Thu, 31 Oct 2013 17:49:00 +00002013-10-31T13:49:56.021-04:00breast cancercancerpinkwashingsurvivorsurvivor guiltThe Shame of Being a SurvivorToday marks the end of breast cancer awareness month. It was the first that I could declare myself a "survivor," so I did. Full of enthusiasm and pride, I donned my pink t-shirt with SURVIVOR screened across the front 3 or 4 times this month. I wore it places and times that people would see it. Being a survivor is a big deal! No more medications! Fewer trips to the doctor!The risk of it coming back is practically NIL. All those nasty nausea inducing, burning, scarring, treatments WORKED! WOO HOO!!!!!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JWchrn9oV-Y/UnKXzLOpwPI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/YWTVEWERO6w/s1600/IMG_5371%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JWchrn9oV-Y/UnKXzLOpwPI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/YWTVEWERO6w/s320/IMG_5371%5B1%5D.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>And do you know what people said to me?<br /><br />Nothing.<br /><br />No, "congratulations!" or "that's great!" In fact, I felt shame. I felt like people were saying to me, "How dare you wear that. You can't just go parading around looking for praise. People get other kinds of cancers you know." I felt like all of the "pink-washing" done by retailers was taking its toll on people; but because they didn't know how to express it, they ignored me.<br /><br />Now, don't get me wrong. There were lots of people that wished me well and shared my enthusiasm of being a survivor. People wore ribbons, socks, and bandannas in my honor. Tons of people liked and commented on my self-portrait, and each response was meaningful to me.<br /><br />Perhaps I'm the problem. I rail against the craziness of breast cancer awareness month, but then I go ahead and wear a shirt that makes it look like I'm for it. It's confusing. I see that. I'm not even sure how to feel at times. On the one hand, people use the pink ribbon to make money, and that INFURIATES me. On the other hand, there are some products and organizations that are really making a difference and doing good.<br /><br />Maybe it's just the awkwardness of wearing your heart (or your medical history) on your sleeve. A lot of people hide their illnesses, weaknesses, and struggles, because that is what's socially acceptable. I've never cared much for pretending, be it playing with children or little white lies. I live my life in the open so that people can see, learn, and hopefully grow.<br /><br />I am a breast cancer survivor, and regardless of the craziness, <br />I won't feel shame.http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-shame-of-being-survivor.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-2063784380910635372Mon, 23 Sep 2013 03:38:00 +00002013-10-31T13:51:01.750-04:00adoptionbirth fatherfoster careMy big little boyTo my boy,<div><br></div><div>Tonight u called for me from upstairs, after you were supposed to be asleep. You said you needed a hug. I thought you were just trying to stay up later, as you often do. But tonight, you were persistent. You really DID need a hug.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>Earlier today you found a photo album. It's the one you used to look at every night before bed. You would point to each picture and say, "this is me and my dad," or "this is me and my sister and my dad." Sometimes you would say it was you and your dad even if neither of you were in the picture. I'm not sure if you lost it or just forgot about it after a while, but today you found it again and it brought up a lot of sadness.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>You haven't seen your birth father in months. I can't even remember how long it's been. January? February? I don't know. I just know it's been far too long for a six year old boy who misses his father.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>Tonight you were sad. You were afraid that you had been forgotten. You were confused because you didn't know why he wasn't coming to visits anymore. You wanted to be older, because your older cousins got to go home, but you and your sister didn't.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>I finally told you that your dad is sick... With an addiction. You didn't know what that meant, but it's the best I could give you at the moment. I told you that when you are sick with an addiction that you want something so badly that it makes you make bad choices. "Like stealing?" You asked. "Yes," I said, "like stealing."&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>We sat there for a while. I held you as you cried. (Which was awkward as you are only 6 inches shorter than I.) We tried to focus on the good things in life. And eventually, you went back to bed.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>I know that what I can give you isn't enough. You will always have a hole inside of you that can only be filled by your birth family. But for as long as you are under my roof, I will continue to hold you and dry your tears- even when you are seven feet tall.&nbsp;</div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/09/my-big-little-boy.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-4548489455682983944Wed, 28 Aug 2013 18:09:00 +00002013-08-28T14:09:24.286-04:00aerieaeriesupportsBreast cancer awarenessI heart AerieIf you don't know, Aerie is a store- a spin off of American Eagle. It sells undergarments, pajamas, and lounge wear. I love it. The clothes are soft and comfortable, and just the right amount of sexy.<br /><br />Today I got an ad in the mail from Aerie. (I like them enough that I allow them to spam me.) It had a coupon for 20% off my purchase as well as an offer for a free tote. Cool, I can shop and feel like I'm saving money instead of spending it! (Marketing at its finest.)<br /><br />On the front of this post-card sized mailing is a model wearing a pink bra and holding a pink ribbon just above it. There is also a large photo of a pink "ribbon" made from pink bras being stacked just so. In the middle, in all capital letters and in bright pink ink it says, "BREAST CANCER AWARENESS." My first thought was, really? It's not even October. My second thought was, yeah right, this from a place where I can't even buy a bra. (They don't sell mastectomy bras.)<br /><br />Under the bright pink headline of "BREAST CANCER AWARENESS" it says in smaller gray ink, but still in all caps, "LEARN HOW YOU CAN HELP INSIDE." My husband saw the ad and said, you can help by buying a bra! And, that's exactly what they are saying. Buy this limited-edition bra and 100% of sales go to bright pink. (I haven't done any research on bright pink yet. But they have a website- check them out at brightpink.org.)<br /><br />Aerie is doing a couple of things right: 1- they are giving 100% of sales to their non-profit of choice, not just a few pennies per sale. Props. 2- they have chosen a non-profit that focuses on <u>young </u>women and breast cancer. This is not only needed, but also makes sense as mostly younger women shop in their stores.<br /><br />There are a couple of things that Aerie could do better: 1- sell mastectomy bras and swim suits. As I stated earlier, I love their clothes, but I can't even wear their primary product- their bras! 2- educate their associates about customers like me. One time I was shopping in Aerie and a salesperson was REALLY pushing me to try on a bra. I politely refused. But after the third ask I was really tempted to shout in her face just exactly WHY I wasn't going to try on a bra. It was really frustrating, and I left upset.<br /><br />Do I heart Aerie? Yes. Could they do better? Yes. Is it easy being a breast cancer survivor? No, and that's that.<br /><br />I love and hate October. Be mindful, friends- of marketing, pink ribbons, and most importantly, your own body. Early detection REALLY DOES matter, and can keep you from chemo.<br /><br />Until the next ad comes my way... ;)<br />Kellyhttp://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/08/i-heart-aerie.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-1907321817020051391Thu, 20 Jun 2013 19:53:00 +00002013-08-28T14:10:31.177-04:00adoptionfoster careparentingDear boy June 20, 2013To my boy,<div><br></div><div>You aren't officially "mine" except in my heart. I've wanted to write you before, but just didn't have the words.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>Today I got your "child profile." It tells me all about your past: where you lived and who you lived with, what you went through, and why you live with me now. It tells me about your parents and the struggles they've had. It's hard to read. It makes my throat tight because I'm holding back tears. I want to know and I don't want to know, all at the same time.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>Some day I'll let you read it. You won't want to believe what it says. You'll be angry and sad. You will feel abandoned. You will wonder why your parents didn't try harder to keep you, or at least keep you with Me-Ma.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>I don't have answers now and I won't have answers then. All I can tell you is that I love you. And when I look at the poorly copied black and white picture of you on the front, all I can think of is how cute you were and how much I wish I had known you then.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>Part of you will always be the "farm boy" playing in the dirt and idolizing your oldest cousin, but I hope that part of you will always be mine too.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>I love you, buddy. More than you know.&nbsp;</div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/06/dear-boy-june-20-2013.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-7630677969462304378Fri, 07 Jun 2013 02:23:00 +00002013-06-06T22:23:49.417-04:00tamoxifenGardening<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7ORkM5oi32o/UbFEMx264uI/AAAAAAAAAEU/pThWmMlpwws/s640/blogger-image-435725828.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7ORkM5oi32o/UbFEMx264uI/AAAAAAAAAEU/pThWmMlpwws/s640/blogger-image-435725828.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-LgQH-fPOVuM/UbFEMR1-3aI/AAAAAAAAAEM/4BzhbxH3K-E/s640/blogger-image-326130733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-LgQH-fPOVuM/UbFEMR1-3aI/AAAAAAAAAEM/4BzhbxH3K-E/s640/blogger-image-326130733.jpg"></a></div><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7ORkM5oi32o/UbFEMx264uI/AAAAAAAAAEU/pThWmMlpwws/s640/blogger-image-435725828.jpg"></div>Yesterday I spent four hours digging up a flower bed, replacing the dirt, and planting seedlings. The fact that I could do all of that in one day, is unheard of. What is even more strange is that today, I hardly feel sore. If I had tried this while still on tamoxifen it would have taken me two weeks because I would have needed two days to recover from every hour I worked (and I could only work an hour a day at best.)<div><br></div><div>This is a strange new world- having energy. I like it.&nbsp;</div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/06/gardening.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-8441702036286104981Mon, 08 Apr 2013 19:21:00 +00002013-04-08T15:21:30.021-04:00breast cancersurvivortamoxifenthyroid cancerBetterToday is April 8th, 2013. I am just about a month out from my radioactive iodine treatment. I've been off of tamoxifen for about a week. I feel better than I have since February of 2007. Thanks, God.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/04/better.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-6728546421077722222Mon, 04 Mar 2013 19:46:00 +00002013-03-04T14:48:09.562-05:00breast cancercancerlifepartyremissionsurvivorThe Last 24 hoursHere we are. 24 hours till the end of isolation. 24 hours until the end of any foreseeable cancer treatments. 24 hours till the hug fest. Oh how I long for this to be the end of it.<br /><br />I now know, however, that I will never be "done" with cancer. It will always be part of my life. And though I transition from fighter to remission to survivor, I will always be one of the three. Cancer has changed me forever.<br /><br />This last bout wasn't bad, relatively speaking. Sure I was tired, had pain after surgery, lost some of my singing range and power, had a funny taste in my mouth for days, and felt blah overall, but that's nothing compared to even just one round of chemo or the effects of external radiation, &nbsp; not &nbsp; even &nbsp; close.<br /><br />Before the thyroid cancer was diagnosed, I was planning a party, a BIG party. A party to celebrate the end of remission, the possibility of adoption, and the simple fact that I was alive. I've decided not to have that party. Not because those things aren't worthy of celebrating, they are for sure; but because the real reason I wanted to celebrate, was because I would be <u>done</u>&nbsp;with cancer. That reason no longer exists. In fact, it never did, I only thought it did.<br /><br />Now before you go trying to talk me into having it anyway, please realize that I made the decision months ago, and thus- stopped saving months ago. So if you want a party you are going to have to pay for it. We also didn't plan the date into Chris's vacation time, so it would not be on June 1st as originally planned (at least not up in MA.) Also, Chris did an EXCELLENT job of helping me celebrate on the weekend of February 1st, the actual date when I went from being in remission of breast cancer to being a breast cancer survivor, despite being in between treatments for thyroid cancer. So I don't want to hear a peep about having it anyway. Got it? Good.<br /><br />Instead of throwing a party and having one day, or even a weekend of celebration, I suggest that you all change your life the way that cancer has changed me. Each day we are breathing is a reason to celebrate. Celebrate the big things, the little things, the obscure holidays, even the stuff that drives you nuts. Because you know what? There is a guy lying in a hospital bed wishing for the chance you have to cart your kids here, there, and everywhere. There is a girl who would give anything to have a kid who knows how to push your buttons, because it means she has a kid. And there is a kid who doesn't know if he'll have another birthday cake, because he may not be alive by his next birthday. (I've been that guy, that girl, and that kid.)<br /><br />Life is a gift from God. We need to spend it showing love to each other, focusing on what is most important, and learning to be friends even when we disagree. Perspective is a funny thing. We can learn so much if we just open our eyes to the world around us.<br /><br />Today, in the last 24 hours of treatment, I'm going to read, scrapbook, eat ice cream, and wear my wonder woman pj's with pride, because I feel well enough to do so. Find your reason to party and live well, my friends. Live in love.http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-last-24-hours.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-599602838088817588Mon, 25 Feb 2013 19:50:00 +00002013-02-25T14:50:32.959-05:00thyroid cancerUpdate 2/25/13<br />It's been 2 weeks since I've had any artificial thyroid hormone and one week since I started a low iodine diet. I feel surprisingly well! I've felt down a few times, been cranky a few times, but for the most part have just been tired. And, thanks to Chris and his mom, I've been able to get the rest I need. <br /><br />Today I had my "trace" dose of iodine. They will give me a head to toe scan on Thursday to determine how much radioactive iodine is needed to kill any remaining thyroid cells. (The thyroid is the only part of the body that absorbs iodine. Thus, the relatively easy treatment. There is no need to kill healthy cells along with unhealthy ones the way that traditional chemo therapy and radiation do.)<br /><br />So, for now, I will hug my kids and husband and prepare the basement for my time of isolation when I can't hug any of them. Thankfully, after that, this mess should be over with!http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/02/update-22513.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-6826462824381296894Thu, 21 Feb 2013 01:55:00 +00002013-02-20T20:55:25.551-05:00cancerLIDlow iodine dietthyroidThis is why I eat at McDonald'sToday's cooking adventure was so fantastic, that it gets it's own blog post. Anyone who knows me, knows I don't cook, but this low iodine diet has left me with two choices: eat nothing but raw fruit, veggies, and nuts, or spend some quality time in the kitchen. <br /><br />The first two days went pretty well. I definitely struggled when I had to eat an apple while my family all ate pizza, but I made it through ok. My goal in all of this is to eat as normally as possible. I've heard far to many stories of people living off no-salt peanut butter and matzah. The idea is to starve the cancer, not the Kelly!<br /><br />So today, I decided to make a hamburger and fries for lunch. The potatoes were already peeled and cut and Chris had picked up some burgers, so I was good to go. I started the burger and the oil for the fries. I had never actually fried anything before, but I knew the basic concept. How hard could it be? (Oh yeah- you can see it coming now, can't you?)<br /><br />The burger was flipped, the oil was hot, and in went the potatoes... And out went the oil onto the electric coil below. Flooph! Flames appear around the pan and I think (very calmly mind you,) "there's a fire. Grease- no water- baking soda- fire extinguisher- maybe it will burn itself out- use the extinguisher Kelly!" And, I did. I aimed right at the base of the pot, avoiding my burger beautifully, because dog-gone it, I was going to EAT that food!<br /><br />And you know what? After the flames were extinguished and cold air blew the smoke out, I ate it. I ate it ALL. (Alright, I didn't eat some of the fries. I made too many.) But STILL! I knew there was no chance of using the stove again any time soon, so I ate and I liked it. <br /><br />Oh, did I fail to mention that my mother in law - wife of a fireman - witnessed the whole thing? Yeah... Awesome. <br /><br />On the plus side, I don't think the stove has ever been this clean. EVER. Q-tips were used, people! On the minus side, the burner that ignited the oil, is ka-put. (It only worked half the time anyway.) One of the back burners smokes, but we have 2 that DO work! Most of the family had takeout for dinner, but Chris made me veggies and rice. <br /><br />Because there was no way that I was going to use the stove!<br /><br /> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-7K_gqGAH4Ck/USV-hvdVXlI/AAAAAAAAADU/oYaUSVn4688/s640/blogger-image-1028593619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-7K_gqGAH4Ck/USV-hvdVXlI/AAAAAAAAADU/oYaUSVn4688/s640/blogger-image-1028593619.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Z5oJ606oRb0/USV-izjfphI/AAAAAAAAADk/ijsy6vKz8MA/s640/blogger-image--813380734.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Z5oJ606oRb0/USV-izjfphI/AAAAAAAAADk/ijsy6vKz8MA/s640/blogger-image--813380734.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-rFr_I3LdkcI/USV-hEE8AVI/AAAAAAAAADM/adTU6rzoBc4/s640/blogger-image--1453697776.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-rFr_I3LdkcI/USV-hEE8AVI/AAAAAAAAADM/adTU6rzoBc4/s640/blogger-image--1453697776.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-FpXv93QNRIA/USV-if3Ss5I/AAAAAAAAADc/Q2PN4dyTqOA/s640/blogger-image-1289987238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-FpXv93QNRIA/USV-if3Ss5I/AAAAAAAAADc/Q2PN4dyTqOA/s640/blogger-image-1289987238.jpg" /></a></div>http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/02/this-is-why-i-eat-at-mcdonald.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-3760536165783570562Tue, 19 Feb 2013 02:40:00 +00002013-02-18T21:40:58.250-05:00cancerdietiodineLIDthyroidMy mottoI've been off thyroid hormone for 8 days and been on a low-iodine diet for one day. I'd like my thyroid back thank you very much. <br /><br />On the positive side: it's not chemo. <br /><br />On the negative side: my mood is def down. I feel like a lead weight. I'm tired. I have little patience and a short fuse. I want to explode. <br /><br />On the positive side: it's not chemo. <br /><br />That is allhttp://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/02/my-motto.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-8591230197420926610Wed, 30 Jan 2013 18:50:00 +00002013-01-30T13:51:17.639-05:00breast cancercancerthyroid cancerMy 15 minutes of fameI told you they interviewed me :)<br /><br />http://www.observer-reporter.com/article/20130129/HEALTH/130129221/0/SEARCH#.UQhwn79EGSohttp://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/01/my-15-minutes-of-fame.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1415181937994421498.post-6350090196203527191Wed, 16 Jan 2013 19:50:00 +00002013-01-16T14:50:26.536-05:00breast cancercancerdownton abbeythyroid cancerCancer, cancer, and more cancerCancer is everywhere. A day or two that will go by where I don't think about it, but it rears it's head almost everywhere I look.<br /><br />For example: (spoiler alert to Downton Abbey fans)<br />I'm a Downton Abbey fan. I think the only people who aren't fans are those who haven't watched it yet. Even my husband volunteered to watch it with me, and he doesn't watch ANY of my shows! But, as I was saying... in Season 3's opening episode, one of the characters, a servant, feels a lump in her breast and heads to a doctor for testing. She and her friend are concerned that it's cancer. The doctor won't know for sure until he sends the samples out for testing, so we the fans get to wait a week to discover if she does or doesn't.<br /><br />Seemingly innocent, right? WRONG. Even though I know this is a fictional tale, I could feel this character's agony, the pain of not knowing. It brought back the memories of first feeling my tumor and trying to live life as if it didn't exist. It was awful. And this week on the 2nd episode, when they revealed that the tumor was benign, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was THRILLED that the cancer plot would be dropped and I wouldn't be reminded of the disease every time I watched the show. In fact, I even considered NOT watching the show, just to avoid the memories it gave me... but just for a moment. ;)<br /><br />Just yesterday I looked through a local newspaper scanning for things to do. What did I see? An article on a breast cancer walk. I was even acquainted with a person who helped organize it! And that got me thinking, "Why did they do a breast cancer walk? January is thyroid cancer awareness month, not breast cancer." And that set off a long train of thought on how I bet no one even knows it's thyroid cancer awareness month and what should I be doing? and blah blah blah...<br /><br />Then today I see my endocrinologist. He looks all the paperwork over, tells me I have, "the most beautiful scar I've ever seen;" tells me that I was well taken care of by my surgeon, and schedules a body scan to determine if I'll need radioactive iodine (chances are quite good that I will.)<br /><br />I take a look at this timeline and it doesn't start till February 12th. I have to stop my artificial thyroid hormone medication (meaning I'll be incredibly tired, cold, and gain weight just by <u>looking </u>at food.) I then start a special, low iodine diet (goodbye dairy and everything that comes in a box, can, or jar.) Then I get a blood test, then I see my doctor again, then I get a body scan, and if that scan shows what we think it will show then I get to be radioactive for a while. FUN FUN.<br /><br />I knew this was coming, but I was hoping it would happen sooner. At this point, the iodine therapy (where I have to be isolated for 2 weeks) won't start until the end of Feb or early March. This means no scrapbook retreat, no celebrating Chris's birthday with him, and no Regional Festival of Life (youth event in Boston.) I am completely and totally bummed. So much, in fact, that I'm trying to get it all moved up. I can't push it back because my best childcare option (Chris's mom) isn't available in March. That, and I don't like the idea of cancer floating around in my body, especially with my sub-type.<br /><br />So there it is. Cancer, cancer, and more cancer. At least I have good looking scars. ;)<br /><br />http://kellysaftermath.blogspot.com/2013/01/cancer-cancer-and-more-cancer.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kelly Sue)0